Little White Stone
by charmedsilence
Summary: Zuko struggles hard with Mai's death.


**Little White Stone**

The sun crept its way down the horizon, streaking the sky with orange and purple. As he did every twilight, even when he gave it no conscious thought, Zuko mourned the loss of the sun, its fire and its heat. Fire benders felt almost as though a tiny piece of that giant burning orb in the sky resided inside them. The connection was that deep and strong.

Zuko, former Fire Lord, walked purposefully through the palace gardens, sticking to the gravel path for awhile before heading off toward a cluster of flowering night jasmine. Amongst the plants, hidden almost, was a white stone, no larger than Zuko's two fists.

"I'm here," he announced, sitting down, old bones creaking.

Soon the grass would be heavy with moisture and the pale flowers would open up and that wonderful scent would fill the air, attracting moths and butterflies.

Zuko crossed his legs, grunting a bit. "I miss you, Mai." He smiled then. "Our girl is worried about me spending so much time out here with you." His voice cracked. "But I _need_ this; I need our time together. I need to talk to you."

Mai was silent. But the air was not. Birds sang their final songs of the day, making way for the night varieties. Insects clicked and hummed and flew in beautiful clouds, all in formation, like one creature made from a thousand parts. Tiny lizards, colourful creatures, made their way to spots beneath rocks, and curled up for the night, holding on to what warmth their bodies still carried.

"It's a beautiful evening, the kind you loved, Mai."

Beneath the white stone were only ashes, a small amount, taken from the pyre where Mai's body had burned, the fire raging hot and fierce, reducing her to dust quicker than he could have imagined. Zuko had watched, numb, disbelieving, as his beloved wife of sixty three years vanished. Her death had been sudden and shattering, something that Zuko could never have prepared himself for.

He ached physically, as though part of him had been severed, the cut ragged and raw. And he ached inside too, his heart and mind longing for the touch of her lips and the smell of her hair, the feel of her skin against his, the cool of her hand on his cheek, those eyes of hers, full of wry humour and affection, intelligence, desire and once in a while something darker.

"I'm adrift, Mai." Zuko reached out and his fingertips just grazed the stone, caressing it. "Without you, I have no purpose. Uncle would say I need to find one again." His smile was wistful. "I miss him too, still."

Closing his eyes for a moment, Zuko turned his face skyward and allowed the last of the sun's warmth to soothe him. He felt that pain in his chest, the one that came when Mai's loss hit him with particular keenness.

Mai had loved the evening and adored the night. She brightened while the world dimmed. Somehow, she felt more comfortable away from the sun's sometimes brutal glare, felt that she was more alive, more herself once darkness descended. She was not a bender, but she burned with her own kind of fire; cool and reserved but every bit as devastating, every bit as powerful, every bit as wonderful as Zuko's. Mai was built for the night and through her eyes, Zuko came to love it nearly as much as she had.

"The sun's set now." The air was suddenly cooler, the breeze stronger. It wriggled its way beneath Zuko's robes. He shivered a bit. "I'm thinking about those times, so long ago, when we used to sneak out here long after everyone else but a few guards were asleep." His chuckle was rough and raspy. "We felt so free, alone out here, no council, no servants, no one to worry us or bother us. The air was like melted chocolate and you tasted even sweeter. Hmmm…." He smiled and his gaze grew distant and unfocused. Lost in memories, Zuko was happy.

Some mornings when he awoke, Mai's absence slammed into him with such force that he couldn't manage getting out of bed. On those days, Zuko thought about joining Mai under that little white stone. He had their daughter, yes, and friends. And he loved them all. But days without the love of his life were grey and dim and aimless. Lacking the heart and the drive now, he'd given up the throne to their girl and watched with pride as she negotiated the ins and outs of ruling. She was a natural. And she had her own full life, with little time for a grieving father. Oh, she cared and she did her best to ease his pain and he saw it shining back at him from her eyes too. Still, nothing would ever be the same. Nothing could ever be as good.

What was left him but remembrance?

Zuko got up on his knees and leaned forward, touching the stone, laying his hand flat on its smooth surface, feeling for Mai, some essence of her that might remain. "What should I do, Mai? What would _you_ do? Tell me how do I go on?"

How he longed to hear her voice once more; husky and deep and sensual, no matter what words she spoke to him. Foolishly, he hoped that Mai could bridge the space between physical world and spirit world and speak to him, even drag him back with her. He breathed in the smell of the flowering night jasmine and waited; nothing.

He knew, though, deep down, what she'd want him to do. And that was to live out his life, to make it through this dark time, as he'd made it through others, to find a purpose again, something small perhaps, but something that would drive him forward.

"I'll try," he whispered.

No matter what, the little white stone would wait for him. And that was a small comfort at least, something for him to hang on to.

With a sigh, he got up, stretching his limbs. "I'll come back tomorrow, Mai."

As Zuko walked, he stared up at the first stars, and though he hurt, thanked whatever had brought Mai and him together. There was no man more fortunate.


End file.
